


Iron

by Sophonisba



Series: Zophonisbeion [15]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 02:56:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophonisba/pseuds/Sophonisba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-mission reports in the Pegasus Galaxy are often indistinguishable from fireside tales.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron

"So you were creeping through the underbrush with a mirror in your hand," Elizabeth said, trying to make sense of things.

"In case of Wraith," Private Andrews told her cheerfully. 

"Whatever the Wraith do to confuse vision does seem to work more on direct sight than on reflections," Sergeant Stackhouse explained, "but it's a little mirror, like the one you might have in your purse, ma'am. We're going to ask around and see if anyone has a hand mirror they might trade us." 

"A mirror with a leer," Markham said under his breath. His team leader pretended he hadn't heard. 

"And then you saw the Vornash," Elizabeth ignored him. 

"It looked just like the stories the locals had told us, ma'am," Andrews agreed. "So Markham ducked forward, grabbed the little girl by the arm, and beat feet while we laid down cover fire." 

"Which didn't do anything." 

"Well, the Vornash didn't exactly like the noise," Stackhouse offered. "But none of our bullets damaged it; even with the Wraith, you can tell you actually hit one for a moment." 

"And you fled back to the hut you were staying in... " 

"... and I made sure to lay my K-Bar on the doorstep before we locked the door behind us," Andrews finished. 

"It's all in the report, ma'am," Stackhouse told her. 

"And the Vornash 'approached the door, shrieked, and paced up and down outside for some time before leaving'?" 

"It couldn't abide the naked Cold Iron, ma'am," Andrews told her earnestly. "Maybe the Ancients brought it when they brought the people and cattle?" 

"And the next day, the indigenous inhabitants wanted to trade for your knives?" 

"They offered us all sorts of bronze goods, but I said we had to check with you first, ma'am," Stackhouse summarized. "One of the scientists might know how to smelt iron or something, and I'd rather trade lessons than our gear. We did trade them the stainless steel scissors out of Markham's dock kit." 

"They'd gone dull," Markham shrugged, "and I got a little pair of bronze scissors and a bushel of not-quite-apples for them." 

"I still don't understand why Andrews knew to put his knife on the doorstep." 

"From what they'd said and the rusty lumps over some of the doors and windows." Andrews blinked as if it were self-evident. 

"And you'd believed that they were talking about something real." 

"I always believe in things that could possibly kill me," the thin private said, desperately earnestly.

**Author's Note:**

> Markham's vaguely remembering an item from a computer game he once played, probably because the name rhymes.


End file.
